


A Blur of Static and Gold

by Kitsoa



Category: Konjiki no Gash!! | Zatch Bell!
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Dub names, Gen, If I tried editing this I would never post it, Post-Canon, Reunion, Self-Indulgent, but with some manga-isms, fluffy friendship, its very confused sorry, this is old
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-02
Updated: 2019-07-02
Packaged: 2020-06-02 15:18:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19444117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kitsoa/pseuds/Kitsoa
Summary: He came like lightning. A terribly cheap phrase to the reality of it all. He didn’t come like lightning, he was in every sense of the word 'lightning'. The breeze encircling him brushed against his wheat-colored hair that crackled with static. His golden eyes shimmered with an unspeakable light against the waning amber sunlight. As suddenly as that day fifteen years ago, Zatch Bell, King of the Mamodos, came back to Kiyomaro Takamine; in a blur of static and gold.





	A Blur of Static and Gold

**Author's Note:**

> I had the urge to clean out some WIPs. This is at least 5 years old. Most likely older. I'm a little heavy handed with the prose but I wanted to write an older Zatch and give this precious duo the reunion they deserve.

He had never stood before royalty. From a logical standpoint, it didn’t seem all that magnificent. Sure, those of ‘royal’ blood had an impressive ancestry—impressive in only the sense that they kept good track in a very unspecific and muddled world. His father spoke of the Englishmen pride in their monarch and he had learned copious amounts of romanticized accounts of the Japanese Mikado. Yet in the end, they were all the same as their peers, only with the common misfortune of being over glorified and given unwitting privilege. It would have been cool on some shallow “once-in-a-lifetime-meeting” photo-op, but there was nothing truly awe-inspiring about sharing the space with someone with a fancy title.

That was what Kiyomaro believed until he found himself staring the purest article directly in the face.

He came like lightning. A terribly cheap phrase to the reality of it all. He didn’t come like lightning, he was in every sense of the word _lightning_. The breeze encircling him brushed against his wheat-colored hair that crackled with static. His golden eyes shimmered with an unspeakable light against the waning amber sunlight. As suddenly as that day fifteen years ago, Zatch Bell, King of the Mamodos, came back to Kiyomaro Takamine; in a blur of static and gold.

It was along the human’s usual evening walk, ignoring the hungry aching stomach pains and the looming deadlines that he strolled mindlessly in reflection by the small fishing channel in his home town. In the occasional melancholy he seemed to always summon, Kiyomaro let the intense gold of the rich sun draw his weary sigh. He had grown into a fine man. Intelligent, generous, inspiring… he was shaping himself up to be an important figure in the wellbeing of people everywhere. He had found friendship and love in the many years and he was no stranger to a new face. Kiyomaro was alive and happy… but he had always found himself before this shimmering stream of water.

Maybe it was the way his image contorted in the ripples, or the nostalgic sound of the swimming fish, or… maybe it was the light. That golden light that reminded him of that Golden Boy. _His_ Golden Boy.

What did he look like now? What was being King like? How strong was he? Was he happy?

Still as emotional as ever, the twenty-nine year old felt his eyes well up with tears as he tried to summon his “Answer-Talker” ability despite the lack of external stimulus. There was no greater pain than the unknown and when it came to his greatest friend he felt the desire burn painfully. There was a hole left by that bubbling child of joy, and it ached like a fresh wound even to that day. Nostalgia was considered a disease in some cultures, Kiyomaro he could only assume that he was a terminal patient.

During the time between his spilling tears and halting feet, the man had closed his eyes to the painful memories before him. That was when the sound of the trickling water and summer bugs was joined with a new, faint noise; like a strange low whistle… and then a padded _thump._ If it wasn’t for the grass at his feet rustling at the entrance of something new, he wouldn’t have opened his eyes. 

The man stood in shock as his eyes took in the wonder at his feet. A glowing red book, practically screaming at him. At one time he valued the scarlet tome as greater than his own life. It had seemed, so many years ago, that the object was as intrinsically connected to him as his beating heart. When it vanished, he was mystified by the extensively nursed protective habit that he had formed for it. To a lowly human, the book was his bridge… his bridge to meet him. His voice caught in his throat as he thought of the only other time this had happened before a year after the final battle… He had seen the boys’ image faintly before him, like a ghost, and he had only known one thing; _cast a spell._

Feeling the demand for speed the flabbergasted man picked up the familiar weight and let the spine crack open naturally; his sharp mind was miles behind. Shaking, he smoothed a hand over the unfamiliar text of a new spell. His breath was cut short and he felt his tongue dance with the language behind closed lips. A rush of excitement sparked his eyes to life with his ability and the innate answer to the pressing question that came to him shook him so deeply he couldn’t comprehend. He could only smile as his emotions welled up within the book. In the strange limbo between thought and action, Kiyomaro took a deep breath.

“The Fifteenth Spell: _ZAKONJIKIRU!_ ”

A great golden light sparked to life before him along with it the distinct clap of thunder. The sound smashed against his face and rumbled the ground with its deep reverberating growl. Kiyomaro recoiled against the intense and sudden light yet found the strength the brave the glow. It seemed to grow and contour into a shape, but he couldn’t focus in the rush of his intense joy and disbelief. When the light met its climax and began to fade, the spellcaster realized how fast it had come. The tired simile made him almost laugh but he became too mesmerized with the being that had materialized in the bolt. The supercharged air crackled and it was only when the tangible tension in the air started to ease that Kiyo realized how hard it had been to breathe. It was in the brief moments before his focus had kicked in, that his sixth sense told him that he was no longer by the bank alone. It was in that limbo that he fixed his eyes upon him and made a most audible gasp.

He was garbed in a regal white tunic that served as the canvas to the shock of scarlet his long, ornately designed stole provided. Along his broad shoulders billowed a familiar deep blue cloth which enlarged his presence as a flapping mantle-- seamed together by a loose white bow and a familiar gold gem. His figure was lean but of a condensed strength, his limbs were deceptively petite and his jaw was a sharp, handsome angle. Atop a head of straw-colored hair protruded his most other-worldly feature; large, bone-like horns that curled ever so slightly in the presence of his headgear. The regal crown seemed to complete his image. Wise, benevolent, and _royal._

King Zatch Bell stood before Kiyomaro permeating the definition of majesty. It made the human feel surprisingly small if not for the almost violent lurch of pride in his chest. He was left speechless at the sight. He has seemed to breathe his last with that initial gasp. The warmth in his heart was a rising force, smothering his body physically and nurturing his spirit which unknowingly craved this moment with fervor. His jaw shook as he felt his initial words, caught in his throat. 

“Z-Zatch…” He breathed and couldn’t help but smile in spite of himself. This was really happening.

The noble demon, who had formerly been looking upon the human with a very unbecoming expression of nervous worry lit up dramatically at the sound of his name. His golden eyes beamed a sudden youth that was untraceable initially, he suddenly became more recognizable. 

“Kiyo!”

There it was: his name, laced in the same affection and energy as it had all those years ago. Mindfully, the exact pitch of his timbre was noticeably deeper, like a gentle tenor with a baritone depth. That smile that split his face and curled his facial markings was such blissful sight the human it was unbearable. 

A beat later Kiyo found himself clutching the King in his tight and eager embrace. Zatch made a noise of surprise and then content as he returned the hug. Tears of happiness welled up in his amber eyes and sniffed almost comically in the effort to fight back the sudden hiccup.

“M-miss me?” He forced a laugh as Kiyo held tight his embrace. His attempt to seem cool was worthy of a chuckle. He trailed off, unsure of what was going through the mind of his old friend. Who knew what the years had done to him…

“Unuu…”

The truth was they had no idea what to say.

The demon was tall but plagued with some vertical challenge which made the much taller Kiyo loom over him. He didn’t the way his shoulder shook at first. Was he crying? 

The older man’s laugh cut through the space, further surprising the King pleasantly. It was hearty and deep—a release of pure joy that ripped through him. He was just so grateful, so ecstatic. The fitful worries of the past seemed hilariously pathetic!

He was the same old Zatch.

With ease, he lifted the demon off the ground and tested the limits of his strength with a crushing bear hug. A little confused, Zatch was swept by the joy and latched on to the playful gesture just as Kiyo released him. Inside the blond felt a similar relief flood through him. 

“Haha! Call that a hug?” Zatch teased before he could even manage a good look at him. He feigned a tackle that had the well-wary human recoiling comically for the safety of his ribs.

“Whoa! I wasn’t planning on breaking anything!” Kiyo griped feeling the comfortable air of the conversation taking root.

“I’ll take that as a compliment!” Zatch laughed through a boyish grin. “I’m even stronger now.” 

He fluffed his metaphoric feathers as a means of inviting the topic. “ _Really?”_ Kiyo found himself assuming that tone he had in the past, laced with knowing amusement without a trace of condescension. “And how old are you now?”

“Eighteen!”

“When you say it like that there’s no way I can believe that!” 

Zatch was getting a kick out of the exchange, laughing his signature chuckle. Kiyo took advantage of his preoccupation.

“We have a lot of catching up to do. Care for some Yellowtail?”

Something so regal shouldn’t have moved so ineloquently, but his head snapped to attention so fast his crown jostled between his horns. 

“Would I ever!”


End file.
